Read Online Silent Night (Sam Archer 4) by Tom Barber - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Tom Barber
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but instead it went after normal blood vessels in the lung. Once inhaled, infection spread at an obscene pace, bursting the pulmonary capillary bed.’
‘What does that mean?’ Josh asked.
‘Basically, you cough so hard that you hack up pieces of lung tissue. The spasms are so strong that you break your own back. The healthy vessels in your lungs rupture and you drown in your own blood.’
‘Jesus.’
‘It was horrifying. It condensed the infection period from weeks or months into thirty seconds. Dr Kruger and my father had made a terrible, terrible error.’
Her eyes were distant as she thought back.
‘Dr Kruger realised how badly they’d gone wrong. He was willing to throw in the towel there and then. But my father said no. He said if anyone on our team touched the virus they would be fired on the spot. And that’s when he became darker. He lost a lot of weight. He barely ate. He didn’t interact with the rest of us. He was so distracted. He started to obsess about the Atomic bomb. He thought that what he created would have the same devastating effect if it was ever unleashed.’
‘So why didn’t he just destroy it?’
‘I begged him to. Dr Kruger offered to dispose of it. But my father said no. This had been a year and a half of work. He refused to give up. He thought that his ideal medicinal version of the virus was only a few steps away. Maybe only one . ’
She paused.
‘He told me he was so close to one of the greatest medical breakthroughs the world has ever seen and he wasn’t giving up now. But the rest of us were thinking clearly. We knew that if this virus got into the wrong hands it would be one of the most lethal biological weapons ever created. My father would be remembered not as a pioneer, but as a monster.’
‘That explains what he was saying,’ Josh asked. ‘Just before he jumped.’
‘Your friend should know. He was standing right there,’ she said, looking down at Archer.
He held her gaze.
‘Thousands of people are going to die,’ Josh said. ‘But why would he say that? The virus is devastating but it’s contained here, right?’
Archer saw the anger in her eyes fade. It was replaced by something else.
Fear.
She looked at Josh.
‘Upstairs, in our main lab, we have six separate vials of the virus. On my father’s orders.’
She paused.
‘And when we arrived this morning, five of them were missing.’
Thirty two blocks downtown, Paul Bleeker stepped into a changing room on the third floor of Macy’s Department Store and pulled the door shut behind him. He was holding a shirt, a random one he’d grabbed from a rail, as well as the plastic bag containing the box. He put the hanger holding the shirt onto a hook then placed the bag gently on the ground.
The changing room’s design meant that there was a wooden ledge at the opposite side from the door that customers could use as a seat. Kneeling, Bleeker pulled out a small screwdriver from the pocket of his thick red jacket and started working the screws off the corners of the panel. He worked quietly and methodically. Soft Christmas music played from speakers mounted on the walls in the changing rooms, intermingling with the rustle of clothes being changed in other stalls and the occasional cough or sniff from someone with a seasonal cold. He worked the last screw out of its home, then placed it alongside the other three in a neat line. Tucking the screwdriver back into his pocket, he quietly lifted off the panel and leant it against the wall.
Under the lid, there was an assortment of electrical wiring, but also a square ledge beside a small air vent.
There was already a box in there, identical to the one he had in the bag. He’d placed it here yesterday in preparation.
He lifted it out, putting it on the floor by his feet, then took its twin out of the bag. He carefully placed the new box inside the compartment, laying it on the ledge. Then he lifted the lid and tucked it underneath the box.
This bomb
‘What does that mean?’ Josh asked.
‘Basically, you cough so hard that you hack up pieces of lung tissue. The spasms are so strong that you break your own back. The healthy vessels in your lungs rupture and you drown in your own blood.’
‘Jesus.’
‘It was horrifying. It condensed the infection period from weeks or months into thirty seconds. Dr Kruger and my father had made a terrible, terrible error.’
Her eyes were distant as she thought back.
‘Dr Kruger realised how badly they’d gone wrong. He was willing to throw in the towel there and then. But my father said no. He said if anyone on our team touched the virus they would be fired on the spot. And that’s when he became darker. He lost a lot of weight. He barely ate. He didn’t interact with the rest of us. He was so distracted. He started to obsess about the Atomic bomb. He thought that what he created would have the same devastating effect if it was ever unleashed.’
‘So why didn’t he just destroy it?’
‘I begged him to. Dr Kruger offered to dispose of it. But my father said no. This had been a year and a half of work. He refused to give up. He thought that his ideal medicinal version of the virus was only a few steps away. Maybe only one . ’
She paused.
‘He told me he was so close to one of the greatest medical breakthroughs the world has ever seen and he wasn’t giving up now. But the rest of us were thinking clearly. We knew that if this virus got into the wrong hands it would be one of the most lethal biological weapons ever created. My father would be remembered not as a pioneer, but as a monster.’
‘That explains what he was saying,’ Josh asked. ‘Just before he jumped.’
‘Your friend should know. He was standing right there,’ she said, looking down at Archer.
He held her gaze.
‘Thousands of people are going to die,’ Josh said. ‘But why would he say that? The virus is devastating but it’s contained here, right?’
Archer saw the anger in her eyes fade. It was replaced by something else.
Fear.
She looked at Josh.
‘Upstairs, in our main lab, we have six separate vials of the virus. On my father’s orders.’
She paused.
‘And when we arrived this morning, five of them were missing.’
Thirty two blocks downtown, Paul Bleeker stepped into a changing room on the third floor of Macy’s Department Store and pulled the door shut behind him. He was holding a shirt, a random one he’d grabbed from a rail, as well as the plastic bag containing the box. He put the hanger holding the shirt onto a hook then placed the bag gently on the ground.
The changing room’s design meant that there was a wooden ledge at the opposite side from the door that customers could use as a seat. Kneeling, Bleeker pulled out a small screwdriver from the pocket of his thick red jacket and started working the screws off the corners of the panel. He worked quietly and methodically. Soft Christmas music played from speakers mounted on the walls in the changing rooms, intermingling with the rustle of clothes being changed in other stalls and the occasional cough or sniff from someone with a seasonal cold. He worked the last screw out of its home, then placed it alongside the other three in a neat line. Tucking the screwdriver back into his pocket, he quietly lifted off the panel and leant it against the wall.
Under the lid, there was an assortment of electrical wiring, but also a square ledge beside a small air vent.
There was already a box in there, identical to the one he had in the bag. He’d placed it here yesterday in preparation.
He lifted it out, putting it on the floor by his feet, then took its twin out of the bag. He carefully placed the new box inside the compartment, laying it on the ledge. Then he lifted the lid and tucked it underneath the box.
This bomb
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